


How do You Explain...

by hrewannabe



Series: Honeysuckle: Silver Days [1]
Category: Werewolf: The Apocalypse, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Breaking the Litany, Children of Gaia, F/M, Forced abandonment, Gen, Liberal use of mind speech, Shadow Lords, Silent Striders - Freeform, Werewolf Politics, Werewolves, explaining the loss of a child, lupus aging faster than humans before their first change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 17:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16748785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrewannabe/pseuds/hrewannabe
Summary: How do you Quantify Grief? How do you explain to a pup- a cub, new to the world, to their world what a metis means, what they are, that one is your son.Honeysuckle tries to explain her past to a small Silent Strider cub after the realization that her son never died and came searching for his birth parents.





	How do You Explain...

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the bottom notes about Honeysuckle's age if you don't know a lot about Lupus prior to reading (aka if you're worried about age and consent stuff which in W:tA is sometimes wacky and ew)

Roxie asks her if John is her son. Her thin reedy voice echoes through the telepathic link they share and Honeysuckle works hard to not let emotions through. She knows she is harsh when she tells her that they'll discuss it later, but she is harsh anyways. Being harsh allows you to survive, it is what Mother Nature taught her and so she is. Roxie takes it at face value, but then pups always do.

Honeysuckle spends the next day curled inside her den, blankets drawn closed to block out light and sound. She parts them only when Ruby comes by to feed her (as if she were a pup or an elder) before going off to do homework and later when Roxie barrels in, homid head shoved in and hands going a mile a minute as she asks her to come exploring again today to which she politely declines with a reserved nod. The thin thing had bit her lip and nodded slowly before laying a reverent hand upon her flank and then withdrawing and going towards the vast warren like tunnels of the cearn.

She is torn. She wishes to tell the small human child the truth, but she still does not know them well. How do you tell a child about a son you were forced to leave. How do you explain to a cub that you broke the Litany. She will tell the cub. This newly adopted two legged daughter, she must.

She had told John that she would claim him as her kin, of her ilk and lineage and she did. She had told the sept pack and she had told her alpha and she had expected a second punishment. Had expected to be driven out with her tail between her legs, had expected to roll over and expose her stomach. Had expected… had expected and then was told otherwise. The young elder told her she had been punished already for her crime and need not be punished again. She had wanted to be though. It made her feel better about leaving John even if it meant that she wallowed in the pain.

She covered her nose with her paws and let out a soft whine. She had wanted him. She had. She had been excited when her scent had shifted and that of pup eminated around her. She had expected Henry to be excited too but he had been angry. He had snarled the way humans do with lips pressed thin, he had paced, feet heavy on the soft forest floor  she had watched him in galabro. Still young enough to not feel comfortable in homid, to feel lost without her keen nose and hearing.

He had threatened. Told her to ‘terminate’ whatever that had meant. _She knew now._ Told her to leave and bear it if she must but to not claim him, to leave him out of it and give the _thing_ away otherwise.

_Otherwise._

Suffice to say she did as he asked and left him crying at the child of Gaia cearn to the south. She had left him swaddled on the edge of their bawn with a long mournful howl and a note written in glyphs. She had whined the whole way back tail tucked close to her belly. Henry had left for good after that, cited something about an L.A. and a Europe hungry for something the dense wet lands of her home could not provide.

She never could stand Shadow Lords after him. They make her fur stand on edge. Her hackles rise, teeth barred and they smile back and she presses her lips closed.

When her cearn had found out, her packmates in the Great Dismal Cearn she had been demoted. Cast out and so she moved north, it didn't matter anyways by that point she thought all her pups had died, John included.

She had thought what they had been doing was okay. She had been young though. Too young by human standards anyways when she had whelped John with Henry Whittaker. Henry had been charming, told her he would help her learn more about humans and she had trusted him. His fur had been dense and glossy, clean in a way that she had never achieved from scarce years as a pup and even after her change. He had been strong and wooed  her with food and soft pelts and she had melted.

Her ears twitch forward at the sound of foots running past the dormitory door and the bright sound of childish laughter. She curls even tighter and flattens her ears.

_John._

She had missed everything. He was angry. Rightly so and she was… she was sad? She was something, some newfangled human emotion that left her drained because she had wanted him, wanted to watch his dew claws go and his pup teeth grow sharp. To teach him to hunt and hide and watch him bark out laughs and groom his fur and she has nothing. Has no inkling of the wolf her son is, does not know which he prefers to hunt and it is her fault. Her fault that there is no kin left that loves the way she does, that will guard her den or her flank because they are dead or _John._

 

 _\------_  

A week later the small Silent Strider has still to pressure her into discussing John and the way that the metis stalks around the cearn. She is patient, that much Honeysuckle will give her and when she comes back from catching lunch and fishing a new blanket from a dumpster the dark haired girl is waiting five feet from her den. She is fidgeting, legs bouncing on the unclaimed bed she is sitting on, hands rapidly signing words that Honeysuckle can not understand. She watches her run through signs for a few seconds and smells the slight scent of sweat that comes when young humans are nervous.

Honeysuckle gives up watching the girl and moves forward, soft paws treading on the packed floor and nails dragging and giving soft sounds. She presses a cold nose to the girls shoulder giving her a nudge before side stepping and letting her fur brush up against free skin as she passes into her den. Roxie turns sharply at the actions with a small breathy noise of surprise. Honeysuckle looks back as she heads toward her den to see the girl wrap a blanket around her shoulder and pull down long sleeves before Honeysuckle noses in and deposits the ratty blanket and pushes it around a bit. She thinks and then tentatively touches minds with Roxie, the girl still sitting outside her den in the dormitory.

‘Come in little cub’ she calls to her, ‘I told you I would talk. It is cold outside and I'm old.’

There's the strangled choked sound of the girls laugh as she scoots into the den as she replies. ‘You're not old. Ruby said you're only 30.’ They frown at her, lips set in a straight line, no teeth, just there and she has to remember that two legs age differently, slowly and that she is talking to a cub. 

So she sends her a curl of warmth over the mind link before pushing her thoughts towards the girl. ‘I am only 27 summers little cub, lupus do not use time like humans. We live fast.’ And she has to keep her ears from swiveling in sadness at the thought of how quick her kind are to die in service of Gaia as opposed to their two legged brethren, but she manages. She watches as the 13 year old shakes her head, sending her braid flying through the small enclosed space and the way her hands start to move. As the girls hands move she mindspeaks to Honeysuckle.

‘How many summers were you?’ and she pauses here, eyes wide as she gestures trying to find a thought before signing something that she knows must be a name, _John’s_ name, but she waits until the girl finds her words. Honeysuckle lets out a soft chuff when she does think his name.

‘Seven.’

The pup’s eyes widen dramatically like a rabbit scared to far from its den and her jaw drops. ‘Is that why you left him?’ she questions, she leans forward toward the part of the den where Honeysuckle is laying. ‘You were too young?’ she asks but the look on her face looks hopeful at that revelation, like she understands or could reason with that being the cause and Honeysuckle can not contain the whine building in her chest that she knows would be a sob in her two-legged form but the Strider continues on.  ‘Lots of kids had that problem, where I used to live’ Roxie continues on and the whine burst from Honeysuckle's muzzle, it is loud and high pitched and she feels the faint brush of Ruby against her mind but she pushes away her muddled concern and clinches her eyes shut and shifts restlessly before covering her snout with her paws and the small human’s mental voice rises in a nervous pitch at the sound her words become frantic as if she’s trying to apologize ‘Their parents were too young to take care of them! It’s not a bad thing--’ she cuts off eventually, the den stills and the dormitory is quiet.

Roxie shifts a little closer  to Honeysuckle, a soft hand worming it’s way through her fur. The words that she wants to say to the girl are hard to find, to express to the small thing pressing into her side and she does not know how to explain it without… without raging or snapping, but she promised. So she tries to wrangle her anger back and to explain as best she can the feelings that she had felt at seven of Henry and John and all the things she can not and will not tell her, that she is not yet old enough to know despite being another of Gaia’s defense, a two-legged pup brought to war.

‘I did not want to’ she tells her as a low strangled growl makes it past her teeth and she struggles to not bare them at the thought of her actions. She does not want to scare her, to push her away, she is hers now, not a replacement but hers and she will not lose that. ‘I was not young’ she tells her after a pause ‘I had already had pups prior and they were raised well.’ she does not think of the stillborn pup with grey fur or the the two that did not make it out of infancy or the others. She can’t do that, tries to stay present and grounded.

She can feels Roxie’s surprise in the way her hand releases her fur and the soft intake of breath, her hands move. Honeysuckle can hear the soft sound that means the girl is signing and the soft touch of Roxie’s voice in her mind. ‘I’m sorry.’ She is sad. The cub before her is sad for her lose, she can feel it drenched and dripping from her words projected and where their minds meld to talk. ‘I’d like to think no one wants to be separated from their cubs.’

‘That is true, a good denmother- parent, gives everything for their pups. They raise them as a unit. _Together_ ’ She thinks of a her first mate and tries hard not to think of Henry. ‘A pack rears you and cares for you and you do the same’ she sighs and uncovers her face before hauling her tired body up. Honeysuckle slinks over to Roxie and curls around her slim form. ‘Henry did not subscribe to that. Most two legs, little Strider, I have found do not follow that form of raising pups.’She can feel her relax into her fur, the way that one hand twines into the fun on her flank before removing it self so she can better position herself before the other arm goes to rest near her shoulder.

‘I think you’re right. But most two legs are dumb.’ Honeysuckle lets out a chuff, soft movements of laughter rack her body at the small child’s admission.

‘Has Henry ever met John?’ Roxie asks, voice hesitant and child like, soft with naivety and Honeysuckle stills.

‘Once.’

‘Was he angry with Henry?’

‘I- I do not know. If he is alive then John has never met him, Henry-’ she snarls telepathically ‘-Henry deserves no honor or glory. Mangey no good bootlicker.’ she all but hisses out in her anger, wants to rack heavy claws into dark slim fur. ‘Any Black Fury would be right to his pelt.’ she had known had she told her packmates the truth, the whole of the story that they would have hunted him down, would have challenged him and ripped him limb from limb and hung his pelt in their shared den. Would still call her sister, but it is neither the time or place, she hadn't told them and instead she is watching a tiny Silent Strider as her lips quirk into a smile.

‘These two ladies I live with for awhile said all men were like that, minus the Black Fury part. But why are you so sad about it? If Henry is a bootlicker I mean?’

Honeysuckle shifts her face away from the girl, from Roxie and gazes at the blanket walls of her den. ‘Because I failed John. I could have kept him, but I was young and-’ she sighs ‘ -afraid of much older garou and the new society I was surrounded by. I did not know all the rules yet and some garou’ she snarls ‘-some prey on that and then blame everyone else but themselves. John was _mine_ and I had to cast him away. I thought- I thought he was _dead_ like all the others.’

She informs Roxie, the anger drifting away like fog shifting out from around the trees of the wetlands. She whines and feels Roxie’s hands tense into her fur. ‘And- _and he is not_. He’s not dead and he is angry with every right. I can smell it rolling off of him in waves as he is right to. Still I was glad to be his despite Henry’ and she shifts to look at Roxie. 

The small girl nods slowly before leaning and nuzzling into her side. She is quiet and Honeysuckle allows it, a small part of her does not want to share this private grief with someone not her kin, with someone so small, but she is not a liar not matter how much she might misdirect. She nods again eventually. Her voice is soft but still scratchy when it touches her mind, young, too young as though it never aged with her ‘I understand.’ a pause and then ‘Sometimes, sometimes I’m angry at my mom.’ comes the quiet thought. It is solemn and small, almost doesn’t brush through the link and Honeysuckle’s side gives a heave as she sucks in air before giving a soft lick to Roxie’s cheek.

‘Angry in what way?’ 

‘The same way John is, I think. Confused, and hurt.’ the girl sighs, softer than anything Honeysuckle has ever done and looks at her hands that have withdrawn to her lap. She is silent, always is. She touches her mind again and continues. ‘Being angry is easy’ she tells her and Honeysuckle knows, can agree, thinks of Henry and Pentex and dead bodies. ‘But knowing what you had to do makes being angry hard. It might make him angrier.’ and then as if realizing what she said she looks up and hurriedly adds ‘just to block up all the hurt.’

‘Every child has that right, sometimes anger is good’ and she thinks of small tiny Mia, of the rage that has pushed her further than her siblings, and the anger her daughter held for Pentex. ‘I do not begrudge him his anger… or you.’ She sighs, her tail thumps the ground. ‘He is grown now. Slowly and long and an outcast like all metis children do. Had I known what he would face I would not have dallied with Henry, I would have, have-’ she trails of because how do you explain that she would have possibly still dallied with Henry just to have and keep John close, to raise him to nurse and raise what she had whelped and grown. Her whole body shakes as she tries to leave the thought. ‘It changes nothing, I _claim_ him _before_ the elders, before _my_ pack, before _you._ **_He is my blood_ ** _.’_

 ‘But...’ The girl shifts so that she can look Honeysuckle in the face. She stares into her eyes. ‘Do you even know him? And why doesn’t Henry claim him too?’ more questions rattle of the girls mind and into her own before Honeysuckle can respond. ‘I don’t understand why he’s here, now. Why didn’t he find Henry and be angry with him, instead of you?’

‘It does not matter little pup in this regard. Lineage gives you something to grasp onto, to center yourself. Even if you do not know him I want too. I’ve wanted to since his first breath’ slips out and her tail lashes and her teeth bare. ‘Henry has no claim on the boy, Henry does not care for anything that stands in his way. He is a bootlicker, a two legged corrupt like Pentex ilk and none should mourn his passage before Gaia and Lady Luna.’ ‘Roxie’s eyes widen and she knows she’s gone to far, has been to angry has let it pool and push forward.

’why is he alive.’

‘Because I was young and weak then, but now I am old and no longer scared of his kind.’ she admits.

Roxie’s back straightens and she moves from where she had leaned back. ‘You were scared of him?’

‘Yes.’ she bites out, tries not to color it with negative emotions and succeeds because the small girl can not seem to understand why she was scared and nervous.  She tries to convey why to put into words the feeling of the way that Henry had made her feel and then latter the way that he had reacted in disgust in horror at the small ivory horned baby. She tries and tries to explain until the Silent Strider looks at her realization dawning in her eyes and Honeysuckle can see the anger in her small frame as it shakes but she is tired and tells her it does not matter if he is alive or not, that Henry will get what he deserves that he is long gone from her life and well be it.

 

\----------

She does care, but she won’t tell the cub that.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that Honeysuckle is a Lupus so by those standards she was an adult. Her backstory is very carefully lined up and she would have looked and acted like she was in her early twenties when she met John. Wolves reach sexual maturity a about two which for me means they're in the mid to late teens human wise. She had her first shift a little but before she was three and has already had a litter by that point. By the time she's seven summers she would have looked and acted like an 18-21 year old. I promise that I do not encourage underage sex (eck) and that Honeysuckle has a completely different mindset from those that are humans...I mean she was born a wolf -\\(-.-`)/-


End file.
